“Oh. I was out getting groceries, so I’m not sure when she left. I wouldn’t worry though—she gets distracted sometimes and tends to run late.”
Interesting observation for someone she’d supposedly just met. “You seem to know her well.”
“Not really. She just—well, she’s been staying here, so you get to know a few things about a person, that’s all.”
“Right.” He didn’t want to talk about Arielle. “So, are you going to keep me in suspense?”
“Am I supposed to know what you’re referring to?”
He smiled. “Oliver. I believe he’d dropped the word propinquity as I was leaving this morning.” He’d been late for his first run or he would’ve stuck around for pure entertainment value.
“It means nearness or proximity.”
“You subscribe to Word of the Day or something?”
“Something wrong with that?”
Tucker laughed. “There is such a thing?”
The doorbell pealed. A pang of disappointment ricocheted through him. He wished he hadn’t planned this date with Arielle. He wanted to talk with Sabrina all night. Maybe if he ignored her, she’d go away.
“Was that the doorbell?” she asked.
Busted. He entered the house through the sliding door.“Actually, yeah. I guess Arielle made it.”
He stopped by the recliner, delaying the inevitable, not wanting to hang up just yet. Just say it, Sabrina. Tell me the truth, and trust me to handle it, whatever it is.
“Well,” she said. “Have fun.”
Not likely. “Talk to you later.” He hung up, disappointed and frustrated. Get it together, McCabe. You’re going to scare the poor girl if you open the door with a snarl on your face.
He took a deep breath and opened the door.
“Hey!” Arielle looked fresh and energized from her walk, her cheeks flushed.
“Come in.”
“I love your house. It’s so cozy and, oh, my goodness, right on the water. And I do mean on the water. Sabrina said you had a boat tied up outside, but I didn’t know she meant right outside.”
He smiled at her enthusiasm. “You can look around if you want while I get the food on the table.”
“Sure.”
Tucker dished up the broccoli and brought it outside. By the time he had the grill off and the steaks on the plates, Arielle was opening the sliding screen. Her hair was down, and it swung around her shoulders as she turned.
“Your house is so gorgeous. I could help you with the—” Her eyes seemed to stick on the plate of food.
He pulled out her chair. “What’s wrong?”
The wicker chair crackled and creaked as she sank into it. “Nothing. I—I was just saying I could help you with the flow of your room. If you want, that is.”
He studied her as he sat down. Something was wrong, though she was trying to cover with a smile.
“Yours is well-done, the way you like.”
“Thank you.”
He handed her the A1 sauce, but she hesitated before taking it. “I have Worcestershire if you prefer.”
“No, no. I—I think I’ll enjoy it plain.”
Tucker dropped his napkin in his lap, breathed a quick prayer, then dug into his steak. It was juicy with a nice tang from the spices he’d used. He remembered when he’d grilled for Sabrina. Had it only been a few weeks ago? He’d had her right there in his house. What if he’d told her the truth? Would she be sitting here now instead of Arielle? Had he missed his opportunity?
He and Arielle made small talk, but conversation became stilted after ten minutes. Tucker wondered how he was going to survive the rest of the night. What had Sabrina been thinking? Arielle was nothing like her. In fact, they were complete opposites. Did Sabrina think he could be fooled so easily?
When they finished eating, he carried their plates to the sink. Upon his return, Arielle’s face seemed pale. But maybe the pretense was wearing on her. It was certainly wearing on him.
Her lips turned up as he sat down.
“I didn’t know what you might like to do,” he said. “I could take you out in the boat. You might enjoy the sunset.”
Her face fell.
“Or we could go for a walk or watch a movie. I have a pretty extensive collection—”
“A movie sounds great.”
“Good. I’ll stick the dishes in the dishwasher while you peruse the selection.”
She followed him inside, and he pointed her to the DVDs. He wondered if she’d select a mystery or suspense like Sabrina, or if she’d choose based on her own preference.
When he returned to the living room, she’d chosen Witness, one of Sabrina’s favorites.
“Ah, an old favorite, huh?”
“Why not?”
He put in the DVD, started it, then settled on the couch, close enough to Arielle but not touching. He fast-forwarded through the previews, and they watched the movie’s opening.
Having seen the movie twice before, his mind wandered. Would Arielle expect him to make a move? How many dates could they go on before she realized something was wrong? A man who had feelings for her would’ve kissed her by now or would at least be looking for the opportunity.
He studied her from the corner of his eyes. Her arms were wrapped around her stomach, and she wore a grimace.
“You okay?” Her skin looked pasty.
“I—I’m not feeling so good.” She swallowed, panic lacing her eyes.
He paused the movie, and Harrison Ford’s face froze. “Can I get you something?”
Before she could reply, she sprang from the couch and ran down the hall. The bathroom door slammed shut. Two seconds later, he heard her hurling.
In the kitchen, he filled a glass with water, wet a washcloth, then tapped on the door. “Arielle? You all right?” Maybe she had a stomach virus, though it was an odd time of the year for that.
“Yeah.” Her voice shook on the word. She vomited again.
He wanted to do something, but what? He felt helpless. Maybe she had food poisoning. Couldn’t be the steaks, too soon for that.
Poor girl. Here she was, pretending to be something she wasn’t, and now she was ill on top of it. Maybe the stress of pretending was getting to her. What a disaster. All of it avoidable if he’d just admitted the truth to Sabrina when he’d had the chance.
Maybe it’s not too late.
A flush sounded; then the water ran. A few minutes later, she opened the door. Her pallor was even worse, a greenish cast ringed her mouth, and smudges of black stuff underlined her eyes.
He handed her the water and washcloth.
Her hands shook as she took them. “Thanks. I’m sorry—”
“Nothing to be sorry for. Come sit down.”
“I must have a virus or something . . .”
“I’ll take you home as soon as we’re sure you’re okay.” He hoped Sabrina didn’t catch whatever Arielle had. Looking at her now, wobbly and shaky, he wondered if she was going to make it through a car ride.
“If you don’t feel up to going home, you could stay here.”
He helped her to the recliner, and she ran the washcloth under her eyes. “I’m a mess.” Her eyes filled, spilling over.
He hovered, uncertain. “Are you feeling worse?” Maybe a trip to the hospital was in order.
She sniffed. “No.” But the tears flowed faster.
Maybe it was stress. What if he told her the truth? It would ease her worries about his expectations. It occurred to him belatedly that she may have taken his offer to stay as more than he’d intended.
Her breath wavered on an inhale. “I’m not her.” The words shook on release.
She seemed rooted to the seat, so he sank onto the sofa. He wondered if she was aware she wasn’t making sense.
“I can’t do this anymore.” She put her hand on her stomach, her eyes finding his again. “I’m not feeling so good.”
He stood. “Why don’t you—”
She darted past him, down th
e hall, into the bathroom. Slam.
He grimaced at the violent sound of her stomach emptying its contents. His own gut tightened in response. What if she was sick from the pretense? What if it was getting to her? His offer to stay the night hadn’t helped.
A few minutes later the toilet flushed and the faucet ran again. This had to go down on record as his worst date ever. He’d never actually made a woman sick before. Way to go, McCabe.
The door opened. He helped her back to the living room, a sick sense of déjà vu filling him.
She was weaker and shakier than before. He wondered if this was going to continue all night.
“I feel better,” she said after she settled in the recliner. She picked up the washcloth and wiped her eyes again. “That’s what I get, eating steak after four years meat-free.”
“You’re a vegetarian?” He thought back to the night at DeMarco. She’d ordered salad, but that wasn’t unusual. If only she’d said something. No wonder she’d eyed the food with horror. He felt like a heel.
“You must be confused, and I don’t feel well enough for tact, so I’m just going to say it. I’m not your Sweetpea. I’m not her. I’m Sabrina’s cousin from Macon, Georgia, and that’s all I am. I didn’t write all those letters. I’m sorry.”
Sabrina’s cousin? The one cousin was marrying her ex-fiancé, so this must be the other one.
“You don’t seem awfully surprised.” Arielle licked her lips. “Or mad.” She was looking better, getting her color back.
“I’m not. I know you’re not Sweetpea.”
She stared at him. Emotions flickered across her face, starting with confusion and ending with anger. “What?”
“I guess it’s my turn to say sorry. I know Sabrina is the one I’ve been writing.”
“You know?”
“I know.”
She let her head fall against the recliner’s back. “If you know and she knows, what in creation am I doing here?”
Tucker folded his arms. “She knows and I know, but she doesn’t know I know.”
Arielle closed her eyes. “I am not well enough for that.”
He explained how he’d fallen for Sabrina at the café and tried to get to know her anonymously online. He explained how he’d hired her in order to get her to open up. He explained his disappointment when Sabrina had brought Arielle instead.
“That’s not what happened, just so you know,” Arielle said. “She didn’t know I was coming.”
“She didn’t bring you here to pretend to be Sweetpea?”
Her head rolled back and forth against the chair. “She tried to keep us apart, but that one day at the café . . . she just—did what she thought she had to do.”
The realization comforted him. At least Sabrina hadn’t been trying to pawn him off on someone else. She was a victim in this charade too. Sort of.
What a mess I’ve made of this, God.
“She’s going to kill me for telling you,” Arielle said.
Maybe if Arielle knew all this, maybe she knew what Sabrina was hiding from. “Why?” he asked. “Why won’t she tell me who she is?”
“Why haven’t you told her that you know who she is?” she countered.
Ah, the protective cousin had arrived. She was feeling better. “I’m afraid of scaring her away. She—she means a lot to me.”
He looked at the TV screen, gone blank from being paused too long. “Look, I know it might seem like I’ve strung her along, pretending I don’t know who she is. But it’s not like that. I—I love her, okay? All those letters . . . hearing her heart, night after night. She’s special to me. More special than anyone I’ve ever met.”
Would he ever get to tell her in person? Now that Arielle knew, she’d probably tell Sabrina everything. And where did that leave them? Sabrina would be furious that he’d known all along. Furious wasn’t the word. She might feel he’d played her for a fool. He’d probably get a lap full of hot coffee in the morning.
“Do you know why she won’t admit who she is?” he asked again.
Arielle sat up straighter. “I don’t think it’s my place to say. Oh, my goodness, she’s already going to kill me.”
Tucker frowned. “Not going to be too happy with me either.” Any chance he’d had with her was gone. She might stop writing him. What was he thinking? Of course she’d stop writing. What was he going to do if he’d lost her for good?
Once again he tried to imagine how Sabrina would feel when Arielle told her the truth. Furious wouldn’t be the half of it. Add humiliation to the mix, and you had a concoction that spelled “The End.” Done. Finished. El finito.
Though he loved Sabrina, he wasn’t blind to her faults. She was stubborn as a bull. Look how long she’d harbored anger toward her ex-fiancé and cousin and her whole family for that matter. If she felt Tucker had betrayed her trust, she’d never forgive him. Why hadn’t he considered that before?
The dishwasher kicked into a different cycle. A boat engine roared to life outside.
“Unless . . .” Arielle started. Her brows puckered, and she chewed on her lower lip.
“Unless . . . ?”
She locked her gaze on his. “Unless we don’t tell her.”
The idea didn’t sound as fabulous as she apparently thought it was. It would get them both out of trouble, but what good would it do otherwise? At least they could dispense with the date pretense. That was something.
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Sabrina cares about you a lot. Maybe you already know that.”
Something warm and pleasant swelled in his gut. He’d hoped. He’d even been pretty sure at times. But hearing it confirmed was euphoric. “She hasn’t said it in so many words.”
“Well, this hasn’t been easy on her, watching us go out.”
“Really?” It shouldn’t make him feel so pleased.
“She was peeking out the window the other night when you brought me home.”
She did care. She cared a lot. It must be eating her alive to see him and Arielle together. Especially after losing one man she loved to a cousin. “You’re not suggesting we make her jealous.”
Her face fell a bit. “That would be kind of mean. Especially after what Jaylee did.”
“It’s still pretty fresh.”
“Oh, my goodness, she would hate me.”
It would be cruel to stir up those feelings of betrayal. It might not even work. He imagined Arielle flowing in the door from one of their dates, raving about him. He imagined the letters he could write, the things he could say about their time together.
The look of hurt on Sabrina’s face.
“I don’t think I can do it,” he said.
“It’s for her own good. I don’t think you’ll get anywhere with her unless she’s forced into it. She needs a big push.”
But Jared had hurt her deeply. He didn’t want to do the same. He couldn’t believe Arielle was willing to risk her relationship with her cousin.
“I love her, too, you know,” Arielle said. “Besides, maybe we can get you some time alone with her.”
Now, that idea appealed. “How?”
“I don’t know. We’ll figure out something.”
It would be worth it if he could get time with her. He missed having her over. He longed for time alone with her. If Arielle could arrange that, maybe he could show Sabrina how much she meant to him, how special she was.
“Deal?” Arielle asked, her brows disappearing under her bangs.
What did he have to lose? “Deal,” he said, hoping he hadn’t made another mistake in what was beginning to look like a long string of gross miscalculations.
Sweetpea: Life is so confusing.
Chapter Twenty-four
Sabrina read the first lines of Tucker’s email, her chest muscles squeezing the oxygen from her lungs. Arielle had said little when she’d returned from Tucker’s. Only that he’d served steak and she’d gotten ill.
She hadn’t looked ill when he’d brought her home. Her makeup was
faded, but she had a natural glow and a mysterious smile hovering on her lips. I’ll bet Tucker kissed her, Sabrina thought, her knees going weak.
Arielle took a quick shower and lay down on the couch. She was asleep within minutes, and Tucker’s message arrived shortly afterward.
She reread the first lines.
Hey there. Hope you’re feeling better. You had me worried. I hope you’re not coming down with something—talk about bad timing, huh?
When you’re feeling better I’d like to take you out on my boat. Maybe we can have a picnic on the water and watch the sunset. I always wanted to do that with you, did I ever tell you that? There’s something romantic about twilight on the water. The colors are unbelievable.
Write soon and let me know how you’re feeling, okay? Until then, I’m thinking about you . . .
Was he really? Or was he thinking about Arielle?
Of course he’s thinking about Arielle, you fool. That’s who he’s spending time with. He’s falling for her. Just like Jared fell for Jaylee.
And she had no one to blame but herself.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She wanted to reply. Maybe he was still at the computer. But he thought she was Arielle. What if he went on and on about the date?
As hard as she’d tried to hang on to him, he was slipping away. The thought brought a tidal wave of fear. She poised her fingers over the keys and started typing.
I’m feeling better. It was probably something I ate for dinner—
She paused. Maybe it would be better if he thought it was a stomach virus. That would require a few days to recover. Three days of keeping him and Arielle apart. She deleted everything she’d typed.
I’m still feeling a little nauseated. I’m sure I’m fine. Probably just a stomach virus or something.
She sent the message, then tapped her fingers on the desk, waiting. Behind her, Arielle snored lightly on the couch. She’d thank Sabrina for buying her time. Of course, for all she knew, the effects of the steak might actually last a few days. She hoped not, for Arielle’s sake.
After several minutes, she gave up hoping for a reply from Tucker. He must’ve gone to bed.
She changed into her pajamas and curled under the quilt, tucking the cover under her chin. If they could survive the next two weeks, everything could return to normal. Arielle would be gone, and she and Tucker could continue writing. She could revert to sneaking glances at the café while he sipped his coffee. That was all she wanted.
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